Wasteland
by Min Daae
Summary: Theon Greyjoy wakes at night to the howling of wolves. But no one else seems to hear it...


He woke in the middle of the night to the sound of wolves howling.

He sat bolt upright, dragging the covers off of the girl warming the bed next to him. She yelped and tried to grab them back, but he was already up and across the room with most of them, looking out at the mixed snow and rain falling down. "Did you hear that?" He demanded. "Did you _hear _that?"

"Hear what?" She wrapped her arms around herself, rocking a little in her own embrace. "My lord, it's freezing!"

Theon shivered and took a step back toward the bed, and stubbed his toe hard on something. He cursed. "I thought I said to keep the fire up," he said through his teeth. "Who the fuck let it go out?"

"I could go find," she said, and he wheeled on her glaring.

"Just get out," he snapped. "Get out of my sight, I don't want to see you again."

He regretted it once she was gone, wrapping the blanket like a cloak around his shoulders and going back to the window, straining his ears to listen. Every night, he woke to their demon's voices, and every night it seemed that no one else heard them. The room was pitch black around him, and cold. Perhaps he should have chosen a lower room, closer to the hot springs. But there, the smell of sulfur reminded him of other things. He'd tried to go down there once, to relax, shortly after the capture. But it had been so dark and quiet, and looking into the water he could hear Robb laughing.

_It's not natural. Where does it come from? _

_From underground, silly. Try it. It smells weird at first but you get used to it. Nobody comes down here at night, so that's the best time to be here. _

Theon felt sometimes as though the entire castle were whispering around him, rejecting him. "It's not my fault," he said, too loudly. "It wasn't about him, anyway. It was about my father. About me."

He limped over to the fire, trying to figure out if there was some way he could relight it. He needed a torch, but to get a torch he would have to go out into the hallway and get a torch, and at night everything in this place scared him.

At dinner the night before, someone had shouted, "The Young Wolf will eat you for supper, turncloak!" Somehow, no one had known who it was. Someone else had tried to climb up and remove the heads of the two village boys that he called Bran and Rickon. Theon gave the woman mercy, hoping that it would let them see that he was not so cruel, but they still muttered when they thought he couldn't hear.

The dreams were the worst, though. A Grey Wind the size of a stallion snarled, bloody slaver dripping from his open jaws, and beside him Robb, hollow faced as death, held half of a broken sword in his right hand. Robb said nothing, but the mute silence was accusation enough.

Someone knocked, and he turned, pulling the blanket around him. "What," he asked, and hated how his voice shook. Maester Luwin opened the door.

"Did I tell you you could come in?" Theon asked, shrilly, and then realized how childish that might sound. "I don't think-"

"May I come in, then?"

He was humble, properly so, and the old man seemed harmless enough. But that was only a deception. Just like everyone else in this place, Luwin wanted him dead. "What do you want," he asked, abruptly.

"Master Theon," Luwin started, and Theon cut him off.

"_My lord _to you, old fool."

Luwin bowed. "My lord, then. I heard you weren't sleeping well. I came to offer my aid."

"Do you want to know why I'm not sleeping well?" Theon snarled, and gestured toward the window. "The wolves. Why hasn't anyone killed them?"

"Wolves, my lord?" Luwin looked puzzled. "I've heard no-"

Theon clenched his fists, wishing he had something to throw. "I've heard them! I've heard them _every night _and you must have heard them too, howling with their demonic voices, it's driving me mad- is that your plan?" Theon bit his tongue and swore. "This place is full of _demons._"

"Not this place," Luwin said, sounding pained. "You are. Master Theon-"

"_My lord,_" Theon insisted, furiously.

"Master Theon, I have known you since you were barely knee high. You are not a traitor."

Theon snorted. "I'm not? I don't think too many people would agree with you about that."

"That doesn't mean you haven't committed treachery, betrayed-"

"Betrayed who?" Theon said, voice cracking as he raised it. "I had to betray someone. It was either House Stark or my father. Which would you choose?" He could feel his eyes sting and turned away. "I always hated this place," he said, fiercely. "I hated the snow and the cold and everyone here."

"Not House Stark," Luwin said, gently, reaching out and laying a hand on Theon's shoulder. "Rickon Stark. Bran Stark. Robb Stark." Theon could feel his shoulders slump with shame. He kept his eyes down. "Listen," Maester Luwin continued, "Theon, Ser Cassel will be here any day with his forces. Someone will let them in. If you stand down – if you open the gates – you can be – you will be spared. Shown clemency. Maybe even send you back to your father-"

_My father. _Theon thought of his father. Thought of the humiliation of kneeling in shit while his father proclaimed his son's weakness in favor of his daughter. Thought of what his father would think if Eddard Stark's servant sent him a request for ransom for his son.

He threw Luwin's hand off, shoved him back, hard. "No," he said, angrily, "No, I am not a coward! _I am not a coward!_"

"Master Theon-"

"Get out!" He yelled, furious, "Get out, you old idiot, before I kill you!" There were tears streaming down his face, but if he only ignored them for long enough he knew they would go away. They had to.

Krakens didn't cry.


End file.
